“I’m afraid this was the best of what Petherick had to offer. It is perhaps a trifle frivolous for Lady Selina, but I thought it was pretty and it does make the room brighter.”
He agreed to it, adding his thanks for all she’d done.
“Don’t thank me. But I do want you to make a point of thanking the sewing women and the estate carpenters, all the workers in fact. I’ve asked Sprake to assemble everyone who had a hand in the work in the hall this afternoon.”
He balked. “What, and thank them for wasting their time?”
Marianne’s tone became minatory. “Justin, they’ve slaved hours every day for three weeks to get it ready in time. It’s not their fault Lady Selina chose to run away.”
Her words shot him through with guilt and his cheeks warmed. “Of course not. I’ll say everything that is appropriate.”
“I’m sorry for it, but you will have to explain the circumstances.”
Her insistence galled him. “As if the news has not by this time filtered down to the lowest menial and travelled half across the county.”
Marianne was, just as he might have expected, inexorable. “That’s as may be. You can’t avoid mentioning the matter, since they need to understand why their efforts have been in vain.”
She was right, as usual. He’d been daunted by the sea of sympathetic faces, clearly taking him for an object of pity, but he hoped he had come the earl satisfactorily.
Due solely to Marianne’s ease of manner, the hours together in his phaeton passed in relative amity, with no dangerous subjects arising since Laxey was up behind and would hear every word. He’d feared a tête-à-tête and was relieved when she had elected to accompany him in this vehicle.
“Go in the stuffy coach when you have driven yourself down? No, indeed, Justin. Besides, we’ll be a deal quicker and I’ve only the one portmanteau.”
The necessity to mind his horses allowed him to spend much of the time in silence. Marianne knew better than to chatter when his attention was engaged. Besides, she was never one to waste words in idle conversation. It was one of the things he liked in her.
She was also dependable, capable, trustworthy, kind, considerate and honest. Too much so upon occasion. She might not be a beauty, but she had countenance and that rich chestnut hair he’d run his fingers through that time she took a tumble when they were out riding and her bonnet fell off. Marianne had not been much hurt beyond a few bruises, but her hair had come down and Justin had tidied it.
He remembered her smiling up at him as he did so, and how he’d very nearly lost his head and kissed her there and then.
“Justin, have you forgotten I am promised to you for the next dance?”
The anxious voice cut thankfully into the memory. He forced a smile.
“My dear little sister, how could I possibly forget?”
“Well, you were looking like a moonling with your head in the clouds.”
Jocasta was nothing if not forthright. He steered her towards the couples taking their places in the set. A flicker of pride ran through him. She looked delightful, gowned of course in the ubiquitous white muslin of present fashion. The short sleeves were full and frilled with lace and a lace ruff stood up behind. Some sort of purple drapery went about the shoulders and in a flow of loops to the floor.
“You look decidedly elegant, little sister.”
She flushed prettily. “Elegant? Pooh!”
“A pity the elegance does not extend to your language.”
Jocasta laughed at his stricture, and no more was said until they passed in the movement of the dance.
“You’ve got to stand up with other girls, Justin.”
He waited until she joined him again, his eyes on the second couple taking their turn in the centre. “I’m not going to afford the gossips more food for talk, Jocasta.”
“They’re talking now because you don’t.”
He frowned down at her. “How do you know?”
She cast him a scornful glance. “Delia told me, of course. How do you think?”
Irritation swept through him. “I could wish your friend would be a little less busy.”
Jocasta’s giggle sounded, but he was obliged to wait to ask the reason until the end of the next figure. But when they were still again, his sister volunteered it.
“Are you blind, Justin? Delia is setting her cap at you.”
“Oh my God!”
“As would a dozen other girls if you cared to notice them.”
“For pity’s sake! What am I, a prize bull?”
“You’re an earl, stupid! And you’re available again.”
Exasperation seized him, but he was obliged to express it in a savage murmur. “First I’m an object of pity and now I’m a target for matchmakers. Why in the world should anyone suppose I’m interested after —?”
“They don’t suppose it,” said his newly worldly-wise sister, “but that won’t stop them having a touch at you.”
Seething all over again, Justin took her hand for their turn in the centre, performing the steps automatically as he scanned a scattering of female faces round about. Jocasta’s giggle exacerbated his temper.
“It’s no use you glaring, Justin. That won’t stop them.”
“Then what will?”
“Nothing. At least, not until you offer for someone else.”
“I’ve no intention of offering for anyone else.”
“You’ll have to eventually. You can’t remain single forever. What about your heir?”
He was never more glad to hear the final notes of the music. He bowed formally, giving his sister a look as he did so that boded her no good at all. To his chagrin, she smiled brightly up at him and leaned a little closer to whisper.
“Stand up with someone else or be doomed, big brother!”
With difficulty, he suppressed a retort. In honour bound, he offered his arm and Jocasta tucked her hand into it. “Who is your next victim?”
She bubbled over. “I’m so glad you’re not stuffy, Justin. Imagine if I had a guardian as strict and horrid as the Dragon.”
“If you’re not careful, you may find yourself with just such a guardian.”
“Pooh! You can’t change now. Mama says you’ve spoiled me to death, which I can’t deny, and —”
“And I’m reaping the consequences. I thank you, I had already realised that for myself.”
Despite the annoyance engendered by her disclosures, her infectious laughter could not but melt him. He steered her towards Grace. “The one consolation I have is that you’re bound to be off my hands in short order, since I see a veritable queue of suitors waiting for you.”
“Yes, is it not amusing? I thought I should be quite shunned with the scandal, but instead I have acquired a respectable court.”
Justin halted, turning to look down at her in some surprise. “Are you serious?”
Her mischievous look appeared and it struck him that his little sister was in unexpectedly good spirits.
“Odd, is it not, that your misfortune has brought me into notice? If it had not overset you so much, I’d be over the moon.”
His heart swelled and he set his hand over hers where it lay on his arm and pressed it. “Be over the moon, my lovely. I’m delighted for you and I wish I’d taken time to see it for myself.”
“Oh, tush! You’ve had quite enough to worry you, and you need not think I feel hardly used, for I don’t.”
He had to laugh. “I can see that. You’re in high croak and no wonder.”
Turning again, he led her through the press of persons, trying as he did so to identify the various gentlemen waiting for her return.
“Do you favour any of them, Jocasta?”
“None more than another.”
“Well, you need be in no hurry to choose.”
“I thought you were eager to be rid of me.”
He raised his brows. “I am, of course, but not at the expense of your happiness.”
Jocasta’s eyes rimmed with mo
isture and her cheeks grew pink. “Oh, Justin, I do love you, best of brothers! And I do wish you —” She broke off, flushing more deeply still.
“You wish what?”
“Nothing. I forget what I was going to say.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, it’s not important.”
“Then why did it put you to the blush?”
Jocasta fidgeted, looking away. Then she withdrew her hand. “Oh, look, Tazewell is waiting for me. He has the next dance.”
With that, she darted away, flitting so swiftly through the intervening couples he had no chance to catch her. He watched her join young Lord Tazewell, who greeted her with enthusiasm and immediately led her towards the floor where the next sets were beginning to form.
Justin was left with an unanswered question and a raft of conjecture. He was just resolving to tackle Jocasta at the first opportunity when he was hailed by his cousin.
“Care for a breather, old fellow? I’m parched. Shall we go in search of refreshments?”
A sigh escaped Justin. Just the excuse he needed. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”
Lord Dymond, whose tall figure admirably set off the current vogue for well-fitting breeches and square-tailed coats, gave him a sympathetic look as they headed out of the ballroom. “Finding the going rough?”
“You have no idea, Alex. And my sister, if you please, informs me that I have now become a target for matchmakers.”
“Should think you might. Never lose an opportunity, those tabbies.”
“I’ve a good mind to put a sign round my neck saying I’m not for sale.”
His cousin gave a bark of laughter and clapped him on the back. “No need, coz. That Friday Face you’ve been wearing is enough to tell ’em so.”
A jolt shot through Justin. Had he been so obvious? If so, it was the last thing he’d intended, besides being impolitic. Uncivil too.
They had arrived by this time in a saloon where refreshments were laid out, and Alex headed for a servant in charge of the liquor.
“Claret, old fellow?”
He handed Justin a glass, at which he sipped, feeling a measure of relief as the wine warmed his throat.
“What’s to do, coz? Still pipped at the gossip? My mother thinks it’s died down a trifle.”
Justin sought for words to express the emotions that dogged him, without wholly giving himself away. “I am a trifle blue-devilled.”
“Not surprised. Enough to throw anyone into the dismals.”
Alex threw the wine down his throat and held out his glass for a refill. He nodded at Justin’s nearly full glass. “Get that down you, dear boy. Put some heart into you.”
Justin tossed off the rest of the wine and did indeed feel better. His cousin took the glass and returned it to him with another measure of the red liquid inside. Then he steered Justin to a clear space where they might be relatively private, since there were only a few knots of guests in the room.
Wondering what was coming, Justin gave him an enquiring look.
Alex grinned. “Only going to ask what you intend to do, coz. Do you mean to remain ’til the season’s over?”
Justin sighed. “I must, for Jocasta’s sake. She would be wild with me if I sought an early return to Purford Park. She’s having the time of her life, it seems.”
His cousin laughed. “Turned into a regular belle. Marianne was saying she’s coming into her own.”
Justin’s breath tightened as he recalled his earlier suspicion of Alex’s interest in Marianne. He took a sip of wine to fortify himself and spoke in as casual a tone as he could muster. “Yes, she’s been so cribbed by Grace and the Dragon, it was a question whether Jocasta’s natural vivacity would be crushed.”
“Not she! It’d take a hammer to crush that sister of yours. Bad as Georgy.”
A spontaneous laugh escaped Justin. “Yes, I recall several occasions when your little sister and mine together were like to drive us all demented. Jocasta can be quite a handful. Grace will have it that I’ve spoiled her.”
“Marianne don’t think so. Says you’ve been the best brother a girl could hope for. And she should know.”
A sliver of something unfathomable touched Justin’s core. “Meaning?”
Alex’s brows rose. “Wasn’t being cryptic, coz. Ain’t you and Marianne been like brother and sister? Always seemed so to me.”
It was so. Or should have been. Though he’d never treated Marianne the way he treated Jocasta. “We are more friends than siblings.”
“Understandable. She’s a deal older than Jocasta.”
It had nothing to do with age, but Justin did not say so. Instead he eyed his cousin, conscious of a faint hostility in himself.
“You seem to be becoming just as friendly with Marianne.”
Alex’s barking laughter rang out. “Don’t be a nodcock, coz. Don’t know her near as well as you do. Mind, I like her. Always have.”
Justin set his teeth. “How much?”
His cousin blinked. “How much what?”
“How much do you like Marianne?”
A frown creased Lord Dymond’s forehead. “What’s to do? You can’t have shot the cat, you ain’t had enough. Unless you’ve been knocking back the claret all evening?”
“I have not.”
“Then what in Hades is making you bristle like this? Know you’re edgy, old fellow, but no need to come the ugly with me.”
With difficulty, Justin suppressed the unprecedented rise of rage. “I beg your pardon, cousin.”
Alex eyed him. “You might well. What’s got into you?”
Taking refuge in his glass, Justin strove for control. But the suspicion would not be contained. “Are you dangling after Marianne, Alex?”
His cousin’s brow cleared. “Ah, I see what it is.” His laugh was hearty. “Behaving just like a brother, ain’t you? No, of course I’m not. My mother gave me the office.”
Relief was instantly followed by anxiety. “What office?”
“Thinks Marianne ought to be leg-shackled. Told me to hang about her in hopes of bringing her into notice.”
“So other men might take interest?”
“That’s it. Downy one, my mother. Knows fellows always start sniffing about if they think there’s something to see. Says men are like dogs.”
Amusement crept through Justin’s annoyance. “I can almost hear Aunt Pippa saying it.” The inevitable query raised its head. “And are they? Sniffing round Marianne, I mean?”
“Lord, yes. Ain’t you noticed?”
He had not. Granted, he’d seen her talking with animation, but he’d looked only at Marianne, not at who she was with. Except for Alex. She was always easy and conversable in company. Could it be true that she was sought after?
“I’ve not seen her dancing.”
Alex looked regretful. “Marianne won’t dance. Insists she’s a chaperon and it wouldn’t suit. Besides, says she’s so out of practice, she’s forgotten the figures.”
“Nonsense, she can’t have forgotten. She was helping Jocasta practice last year.”
“If that’s so, perhaps she don’t enjoy dancing.”
Remembering earlier years, Justin spoke without thinking. “That’s ridiculous. She loves to dance.”
“Well, try if you can persuade her, old fellow, for I’ve had no luck at all.”
Panic swept through Justin. “No! No, I can’t.” He sought for a valid excuse. “Except for doing my duty by Jocasta, I’m staying off the floor. Especially after what she’s told me. If I favour one female, I’ll be expected to dance with others.”
“Oh, you’d get away with it with Marianne. Everyone knows she’s family.”
Chapter Eleven
The end of the season could not come soon enough for Marianne. If it was not for Grace, she would have found an excuse to return to Purford Park. But her cousin had been so knocked back by the shocking manner of the breach of Justin’s engagement she would not venture into company withou
t Marianne’s support.
“I can’t and won’t face any of those hateful wretches if you are not by, Marianne. I only have to see that Guineaford creature to feel utterly crushed.”
In reality, once she was engaged with her particular friends, Marianne had only to keep within sight. And since Jocasta had found her feet, she had leisure to amuse herself, if she’d a mind to do so. But she had not.
The few morning visits they were obliged to make were not so bad, but every evening party was torture. If Justin was present, she could not drag her attention away from him. If he was absent, she was restless and unable to prevent herself wondering where he was and what he might be doing.
The hideous fear he would be snatched up by some designing female haunted her dreams. Jocasta was driving her crazy with a barrage of speculation.
“I’ve never seen Delia so determined. And she’s not the only one. It’s quite a comedy to see how they weave a path to put themselves in his way, only to be confounded when Justin refuses to notice.”
Which was Marianne’s only solace. It was obvious to the meanest intelligence that Justin was smarting still. It hurt to see the distress he was struggling to conceal, without much success. She longed to offer comfort, but found it so hard to be natural with him she was apt to steer clear of anything resembling a tête-à-tête.
As if all this was not bad enough, Lady Luthrie must needs take it into her head to promote her scheme for Marianne’s future.
The matron had caught her alone a few days after her return.
“I came to see how Grace did, but I am glad to have a moment with you, Marianne.”
After an energetic discussion about Grace’s deportment in public, when Marianne was able to assure the matron she had been persuaded to do her part in scotching the scandal, she was both chagrined and dismayed to find herself the subject of Lady Luthrie’s managing disposition.
“I am glad you are obliged to accompany Grace. Nothing could be better. It will provide you with the perfect excuse to look about you.”
So far from her thoughts had it been to think of a future other than one with Justin, Marianne did not at first comprehend her meaning.
A Chance Gone By (Brides By Chance Regency Adventures Book 2) Page 8
